The Incident
by yoohooyoohoo
Summary: Carley is sent to report a gory murder in New York City, with one of the interviewees being Bigby Wolf. The clashing personalities of the two make outcomes of working together difficult and unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

The heat wasn't something she was surprised about. Atlanta's summer temperatures were similar to that of New York City. The different cities seemed fairly similar in exterior. Humid, hot, crowded, and loud. But the most distinct difference was the people who lived there.

Georgia, or the South in general, had their own breed of people. This was the same for the state of New York. Most would imagine that a sudden change of personality to the outside world of moving and working would be unsettling. But surprisingly, Carley enjoyed it. She was a fast-moving woman with somewhere to be and something to go get. Once that was done, she moved onto something else. It was a constant and fulfilling cycle of getting work done, clearing up complications for getting information, and moving on to the next story. And she was craving a distant location change for the longest time.

A job is a job. But constantly being sent an hour from town just for a filler beat-around-the-bush story was giving her second thoughts on the placement of her talents. Luckily, she was recognized soon enough. And the fussy streets made her feel like she was right where she needed to be. To make matters even better, the story was disgusting. It was creepy, questionable, and absurd. That only meant that it was a hit waiting to happen.

"Carley." She smoothly introduced herself while a slender wrist extended to the man in front of her. Her head tilted upwards to view his face, which was perched on a much taller body than her's was.

"Look, I'm not going to do this for long. I've got other shit to do. I don't need to be hounded for answers right now." He flatly warned in his deep tone, roughly pulling a chair behind him and sitting down. A cigarette was firmly held in his fingers, each puff and blow of smoke filling up the small office more and more. The bright signs and car headlights from the street were the only things that allowed the inside of Mr. Wolf's dimly-lit office to be vaguely visible.

Her hand was dropped back to her side after the invitation for a handshake was ignored. This wasn't going to be easy. "That's fine." She muttered, clearing her throat. "About what time do you remember seeing… the scene?" Asking somebody who was personally affected was much more difficult. Not like she blamed the man. Finding the severed head of a loved one on the front steps of your residence isn't something _she_ would feel comfortable talking about either. The fact that it was only a few days after the incident didn't help.

"Around 1:00 or 2:00 AM, I think." The voice answered, dark eyes flickering to the cigarette, to her, and then back to the cigarette. "Do you predict that this was done by a well-known offender, or that it was an act of insanity from a stranger?" The "on" button on her recorder was gently pushed to pick up his answer without taxing Carley's memory, though it was clear that Bigby Wolf wasn't in the mood to talk anymore.

"You know what? I'm not doing this. Ask the fucking police station. Ask Crane. Ask somebody else. I just…"

A calloused hand with knuckles stained in red bruises traveled upwards to run through his dark-brown hair.

"... I don't need to deal with people like you right now." He projected in a loud and aggravated tone, now standing up to hold the door open and show her out.

Carley was a naturally impatient person. She expected things to always go off without a hitch, since for her, things always did. But now was not a time to be impatient. It was a complex story, and getting what she needed was going to be touchy. If anything, maybe making time to interview him so early wasn't a good idea. Success for the evening was hoped for, but she had a feeling that it would end similarly to the way it just had. A job like this required strategy, and she had all of the time in the world to plan it out.

She gripped the handle of the briefcase at her side firmly, and stood from the wooden seat. There wasn't any need to get a coat off of the back of the chair, since she didn't even have time to take it off. At a relaxed pace, Carley walked to the end of the office. But instead of making an immediate exit, she directed herself towards Bigby. He was tensely standing in front of the wooden barrier, holding it open with the weight of his back while his arms were dropped at his sides. Now that a portal to the outside hallway was open, a bright beam of yellow light projected a large rectangle on the floor of the room, as well as onto his face. He looked even more tired, now that Carley could actually see him.

She stepped to the front of him, the beam of light now casting on her face as well.

"Look, Mr. Wolf. I understand th-"

"I don't think you understand anything about this." He muttered, a nearly sarcastic tone matching his unamused facial expression.

"... Mr. Wolf. This isn't easy for you. I can tell. But sooner or later, I'm going to have to hear about the incident from you."

He looked at the woman before him, her petite frame and small height forcing him to tilt his head downwards to make eye contact. He was angry. Not specifically at her, but he was angry. There wasn't any room to be polite at a time like this. Bigby didn't have anything to say in reply, but it didn't feel odd. With furrowed brows, he continued to look at the reporter while she finally turned and made her way into the hallway.

Before he shut the door, Carley turned back.

"Take your time."

And with that, she was heading out of the building. The same petite hand rose into the air, now casually waving down a taxi. After a long day of traveling and moving, Carley wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep in the hotel room that awaited her.

Bigby was back in the stiff chair, a newly lit cigarette now held in his hand. A sharp exhale left his body as visions of Snow's lifeless face began to reappear in his mind. Forcefully, he hit a fist on the wooden surface of the desk out of frustration. Knowing that an innocent woman was killed, and in such a brutal way, was disheveling enough. But in the mundy community, her death was almost completely unnoticed. The only people who seemed to care were the fables in the area, (well, the fables who knew that Snow was dead) and a few members of the police department. A sick injustice like this wasn't meant to be quietly stuffed within the files and files of crime in the violence-central of a city. Her death needed to be acknowledged.

A small blue light cast from a cell phone facing upwards at the white ceiling woke Carley up, even before the loud ringing and vibrating had ensued. Concerned about the possibility of it being an emergency, she scooped the device up off of the bedside table and answered the unknown number.

"Yes, hello, what." She weakly greeted, squinting her not-yet-adjusted eyes.

"It's late, I know." A familiar deep voice replied.

"Mr. Wolf? Shit- what is it, 3 in the morning?"

"... Can you meet tomorrow?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I imagine this was urgent, since-"

Bigby jumped in his chair, hurriedly turning around to see Carley standing in his doorway. He had been sitting in silence for so long that the sound of another's person voice was far more startling that it should have been.

"Sorry. Should have knocked." She admitted, remaining still in her place. "What I was saying was that I imagined this was going to be urgent. You know, since you called me in the middle of the night about it."

Disregarding her passive aggressive statement, he moved his hand and motioned for her to have a seat. Carley did as he requested, sitting down and placing her briefcase at her side. In an odd way, it seemed like the exact same setup as last night. They both sat in the same chair, Bigby was still smoking, and had the same shirt on as he did when she last saw him.

Immediately, the realization came to her. Bigby hadn't moved at all since the interview.

"You staring at something?" He sharply questioned, his words slightly slurred while the cigarette was held between his lips. For a few seconds, Carley was quiet. She could tell that a snippy outburst wouldn't do either of the two any good. But her outspoken curiosity overpowered her, once again.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" She asked, leaning forwards in her seat and placing a hand on her hip. He raised an eyebrow, eyes within dark circles blankly staring back at her. "I don't need a lecture on smoking cigarettes, thanks."

"No, I don't mean that. You haven't slept at all since last night, have you?" Almost in what seemed like a guilty silence, Bigby didn't respond. Which only fueled Carley's outbursts even more. "God, have you even had something to eat? I know that this-"

"You don't know." He assertively corrected, similarly to the way he had before. "... You need to take care of yourself. It's been three days. Four, starting now."

"I need to do some things, and that's not at the top of my list. I don't need to hear 'wise words' from another random stranger about how I need to pull myself together. It's none of your business. You're here to do your job, and that's it." Obviously, he was in the same edgy, impatient mood as he was merely 12 hours ago. The two shared a short moment of silence while Carley leaned back, slightly unhappy that he actually had a valid point. He rested on his left elbow, his fist pressed against his forehead while he held his irritated stare.

"What changed your mind? If you don't mind me asking. With letting me interview you, I mean."

The sound of the question immediately made his facial expression soften. Not necessarily into something calm, just something more somber.

"I thought of Snow. She's dead. This woman… she could still be happily fixing the community just like she always wanted to, and standing for what she thought was right, and relaxing, and- and enjoying herself, but she's not. If this didn't happen, Snow would be sitting in this very office right now. I almost lost her so many times before, but she always got herself out of it. And now?"

He raised his voice, violently standing up from the chair and pacing to the window. The faint sound of honking cars and talkative civilians could be heard from where he stood.

"She was important to me. There is no good reason for her to be dead right now. I don't want that to go unnoticed. Snow's death doesn't belong between the few of us. She's already gone, and the reason why needs to be well known."

The tense man's silhouette stood still in the bright window, the heat from the outdoors lightly beaming itself on his skin. He walked back to his chair, pulling it up behind him as usual and resuming his slouched posture. "There's your answer."

Carley frowned, glancing to the shiny, wooden desk in front of him. It was riddled with ashes, coffee rings, scattered paperwork, and a small silver (slightly unrecognizable) container, which she swore was a flask.

"... Okay."

Bigby was right. Carley could never know the exact way he felt. Nobody did. Nagging the grown man about something he'd heard dozens of times before was probably taking a toll on his current state, though it was falling apart to start with.

With that, she removed her sound recorder, notebook, and pen from the leather case that rested at her feet.

"Describe the scene from the very beginning. Before you saw her, before you even stepped up to the stairs."

She clicked the "on" button on the small device before her, and nodded towards him.

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

"... Sometimes, I still get so pissed off when I think about how the cops almost didn't let me see her. I mean, I stepped through the gate before they stopped me. But if somebody else had to tell the story for me? Shit…"

Even though she was far more rested and fed than Bigby was, Carley's energy was draining. Simply absorbing and recording the information that was being dished out to her was tiring. But she couldn't complain. She had gotten more than enough needed for the story, and it only took another day.

Bigby, without even noticing, was slumped a few inches lower from his original position in his chair over the hours. His eyes were warm and stinging, and the words constantly rushing from his mouth forced his brain to go on autopilot.

"It was just like the first murder on the stairs, which Snow showed me to start with. See, I was allowed to look at that one, because it was just Snow and I. But with Snow's, they almost didn't let me look at it. I made it past the gate-"

"I think you already mentioned that." Carley interrupted, her words muffled by the palm pressed on her jaw from leaning on her elbow. Bigby halted, awaking from his still gaze into space to turn to Carley while squinting.

"... I don't think so."

"No, you did. You definitely just did."

The man leaned back in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. "I think I have what I need." She gently concluded. The supplies that rested on her lap were now being dropped back in the briefcase, and stored away with a metal push and click. Her eyes struggled to function inside, now that the sunlight from outside had long faded. Even more eager to head back to her hotel room than she was the last night, Carley hoisted herself out of the chair and lazily scooped the case up.

"Thank you for your information, Bigby. Mr. Wolf." She added, making a slight correction. No matter how exhausted she was, the least she could do was try and remain professional. Bigby barely moved his attention, only slightly turning his head to her. "You're welcome." He replied with a low mutter. As another long yawn escaped her body, her black, sleek shoes began to carry her to the wooden door. "Have a nice sleep. I mean-okay, you get it."

The tired detective's eyes blankly rested on the corner of a room, near the window. "Yeah, same to you." He weakly responded. Continuing to remain frozen in place with an empty mind, the sound of her shoes exiting the room and the door shutting echoed within the paneled walls. A few seconds passed, before a large, white figure was noticed in his peripheral vision. It was outside, and the fuzzy filter of the dirty window didn't help him identify it. Now, getting concerned, he stepped out of his chair and unsteadily walked to the yellow-ish glass panel.

"Carley!" He bellowed, scrambling out of the room and sprinting into the hallway. Carley halted, raising an eyebrow and removing her hand from the final door handle she needed to open in order to get outside.

"Don't go outside. You have to wait." He hurriedly informed, his eyes wide open.

"...What? Why? What's wrong?"

Grendel is outside and he wants to fight.

"... There's a really shady guy outside. The police had- has issues with him. A lot. He's known to get violent, sometimes mug people around the street. I just didn't want you to get involved with that."

The lie, though a few aspects of it were true, was spat out of his mouth as easily as the crime interview information was. Either way, be it a human criminal or a monster asshole, no innocent mundy should have to deal with that when they don't have to.

"..O...kay?" Carley questionably answered, furrowing her brows. "Thanks for telling me, I guess. I didn't see anybody outside, though."

It could be seen through his point of view that the enemy now moved merely a few feet in front of the door. A nervous wave of urgency made Bigby gently take Carley by the wrist. He tugged her back in his direction, insisting she went back inside his office. "Let's sit and wait for a while."

Carley stopped in her steps again, slowly maneuvering her wrist out of his Bigby's grip. "Okay." She sternly approved, now nodding for him to keep walking back the hall. Sure, his concern was appreciated. But a stubborn personality like her's could only take treatment such as that for so long.

Bigby feverishly closed the blinds over the single window where Gren was first spotted, and made a break to casually sit in his chair again before Carley followed into the room after him. "I've been here barely over 24 hours and I almost unknowingly walked home with a criminal. New York City, huh?" She jokingly spoke, sitting in her chair once again. Now that she had nothing more to ask, all sense of professional presentation went away. Carley leaned against the wooden backing, crossed her ankles, and folded her arms.

"Yeah." He bleakly answered, preoccupied with worriedly glancing to the window again. Another cigarette was popped out from the box and stuck in his mouth. Like routine, the lighter was taken from his right pants pocket and lightly illuminated the small area around his head with the small flame as the stress relief was lit. "I know you have to get home soon."

"...Uh huh."

"Don't worry. It won't be long. I'll… call 911. I mean, shit- what is it? 12:00? 1:00?"

"... Yeah…"

"I know this is a little delayed, but I should probably apologize for calling you so late the other night. I had only thought of contacting you right then, and I just wasn't thinking. I haven't been taking care of myself, just like you noticed. I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

There was no reply.

"... Carley?" He sat up to view her, only to see closed eyes on a peacefully sleeping face. Bigby almost let out a laugh, at the thought of talking to himself for a few minutes while she remained passed out in his chair.

Unfortunately, Gren was probably still outside.

Making sure he wasn't seen was the top priority. If it meant staying in the stuffy office for another few hours, then that was a small price to pay. Losing interest in the current situation he couldn't control, Bigby broke his crazed no-rest streak. The half-finished smoke was extinguished in the cluttered tray on the desk. Similarly to how Carley had, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and relaxed.


	3. Chapter 3

The faint sound of a honking car grew louder and louder as Bigby slipped into consciousness. His eyes, though they felt much more rested, were still hard to open in the grimey, cube-like room now illuminated by the lively orange light from outside. He slowly stood up from the desk chair with a grunt. Carley, who was still asleep in the chair across from him, had thrown her jacket over herself and used it as a blanket. She was small enough to look as if she had disappeared and left a large trench coat in her place.

He quietly exerted a yawn, slowly walking out of the room while looking back at the sleeping woman a few feet away to be sure not to wake her. The motive was to go into the shoebox of an apartment he owned and attempt to make himself presentable, though dragging his feet down the carpeted hallways made him want to drop where he stood and sleep for a few hours more. Hints and dazes of dizziness and blurred vision were felt as Bigby trudged up the stairs, clearly from the lack of food in his system. A good eight hours of rest was a start, though.

The door swung open, pushing wadded napkins and paperwork out of the way in the process. On the tables around him, old boxes of Chinese takeout containing unrecognizable food were scattered haphazardly. The smell was revolting. The room was filthier than he remembered.

_I'll clean this later._

The walls were tinted blue in darkness, with thin beams of yellow sunlight from the blinds decorating the floor. He stepped around the scattered garbage in the dark area to reach the closet and retrieve another shirt. Not surprisingly, there was only one clean shirt left. That would have to do. He removed his current shirt and began to button on one that was thankfully stain-free. Again, in a waddled fashion to avoid trash, he moved to the sink to wash his face. A sore, bruised hand turned the rusty faucet roughly, then cupped to throw water on his eyes, cheeks, and mouth. The water was freezing and uncomfortable. But it at least helped him wake up.

With slightly more spring in his step, he moved back downstairs to the office under the assumption that Carley was still asleep. To his surprise, she had woken up and moved to look out the window while he was gone. His eyes were fixed on the dark shadow her body made. The silhouette of a petite woman in a skirt and high heels standing with her arms folded was painfully familiar. His jaw clenched. Bigby froze, his eyes now darting away to make eye contact with who _really _stood before him. She turned around as she heard him step in the room.

"You look better." She noted, cheerfully nodding towards him.

"Thanks. I, uh, figured you were onto something with the basic personal hygiene, and all." He responded, straightening his tie.

She chuckled, rubbing her eye and mindlessly pacing back to the chair. By the way her back and neck felt, it was much more obvious that wooden swivel chairs weren't meant to be slept in.

"Glad I could help out."

A delicate hand scooped up her wrinkled coat and folded it over her arm as the other hand picked up the worn handle of her leather case. She paused, standing still after gathering her belongings.

"Do you want to get breakfast?"

Why not ask? She was starving, and she could tell that he was, too. It was true, that Carley could be spontaneous from time to time. But just getting a casual breakfast didn't seem like a bad idea, for their sake.

"Uh-"

He raised his eyebrows, glancing back and forth to his desk and the window. The most Bigby expected from her was a relatively snarky "goodbye" and maybe a request to see her out the door.

Dealing with mundies was always complicated, but the circumstances at the moment weren't exactly urgent. Gren was gone, he had to have been. It was daylight.

"...Yeah. Ok. Sure."

Why say no? He didn't have a reason to. Bigby needed something to eat, they could both agree on that. Carley let out a yawn, leading the way out of the office. A hand felt her lower back as she grimaced, yet again regretting spending the night in a shitty chair. Bigby locked the office door behind him, unsure of where the two were even going. Or where _she _was even going. All he did was stay beside the reporter, assuming she had an idea of where to walk. She hardly knew the area, but he didn't want to argue. Carley had a confident nature like that.

"I was surprised you didn't wake me up. Or, at least go to your apartment to sleep in a real _bed_." She stepped outside and onto the sidewalk, the warmth of the sun beaming on her face. Bigby squinted and held a hand over his eyes for shade, fighting the urge to frown.

_I hate how fucking hot this damn city gets._

"Well. I- I didn't wake you up because _I_ fell asleep, too..."

_Too bad it was actually because a monster was outside the building._

"-And leaving a stranger asleep in your office while you disappear to your room? Come on. How shitty do you think I am?" He joked, subtle anxiousness in his voice. His hand moved to scratch the scruff on his chin. Bigby did that a lot when he wasn't sure what else to do.

"Alright, alright. How'd it feel to sleep for the first time in three whole days?"

He uneasily shrugged, scanning the various windows into stores and restaurants they walked past. All mundies. All enjoying their time doing normal things and living their normal lives. And now, somehow, there was one right beside him. "It felt better than I thought, I guess."

The dull, sun-faded "open" sign on the next window had groups of scattered people sitting at counters and booths behind it. Carley made a beeline inside, spotting an empty booth and claiming it as if she was a regular customer. Tossing her things on the leather seat, she swiftly moved a hand over the side of her hair. It was slightly more tousled than it was at the start of the evening, but not as unruly as she had expected.

"Well, luckily, that wasn't the first time I had slept in an office. And it probably wasn't your first time, either." She reasoned, casually sitting in her self-designated spot and swiping a menu from the holder.

Bigby was hardly listening to her. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own reassurement in hopes that he could cover his non-human tracks as smoothly as possible. He did as she did, taking a menu off of the newly disinfected tabletop and scanning for something that was big enough to make up for all the meals he had just missed. After a few seconds of reading, he put the menu down in curiosity of what Carley was ordering. He didn't know why it mattered. He just wanted to blend in the best he could.

As he looked over to her, he was greeted with an anxious expression paired with jittery hands. Fingertips pressed her temples as she glared at the unoccupied staff members around the room.

"...Something wrong?"

"Yeah. No. I mean. It's fine. I just-" She exasperatingly sighed. "I really need coffee."

* * *

"Wait, _that's _why you do that?" He scoffed, forking the last pieces of hashbrown into his mouth.

"Yeah. What, did you really expect anything different? It's usually to just check makeup, or hair, or something. Maybe shit-talk the people outside. It's not that weird, you know." She defended, holding back a laugh.

"What? Yes, it is. Do you understand how odd it is when all of the women in the room leave at once... just for the _bathroom_?"

"Oh, shut up. It's not even that bad. You seen some of the shit that men do?"

The random debate, though it was based on a petty subject, actually made them belt a laugh at each other's remarks from time to time. It was all unexpected, how friendly the two actually turned out to be. In comparison to the energy that filled the air when they entered the diner, it seemed like Carley and Bigby had not truly met until an hour ago.

Her eyes looked down at her singular plate, which previously consisted of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and sausage. Bigby's side, however, was crowded with a jaw-dropping five plates.

"_Jesus_. _Christ_. Are you even human?"

He laughed along. It was only because he desperately didn't want to answer that question.

Carley shoved her hand into the case by her side, retrieving a black, leather wallet.

Bigby froze.

He had no money.

He gave the last of his cash to Faith.

"... Okay. Listen. Carley, I- uh, I need to ask you a favor."

She raised an eyebrow, fingering through the various plastic cards that resided inside.

"I don't have money on me." He bluntly stated, stern-faced on the outside but terrified of the consequences on the inside.

She stopped, letting out a long, irritated sigh. Similar to the noise she made when she was trying to get somebody to serve her coffee. Carley rolled her eyes.

"Alright. I'll cover. Don't worry about it. I mean, I probably wouldn't care if you weren't such a goddamn expensive date."

"Look, come on. It hasn't been the best time for-"

"Oh, quit it. You just explained to me why you're a mess for eight hours before this, I don't want to hear it again."

"Well, do you want a fucking explanation, or not?"

"What I would have wanted was for you to maybe remember y-"

A familiar face walked down the sidewalk, eyeing the inside of the diner. He opened the door, a sinister smirk on his face. Bigby didn't move. Although Carley was curious, she didn't speak either. Even without knowing who he was, she knew there was something between him and Bigby.

"You didn't say "hi" last night. I was _so _disappointed."  
He sarcastically muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

"... Gren." Bigby flatly muttered.

It wasn't exactly a greeting. More of an acknowledgement that he was present. Afraid that the centuries-old cover of every fable in the city was about to be blown by some asshole's temper, (Grendel's temper, not his own) Bigby slowly rose from the table. His shoes squeaked on the diner's red and white checkered tile as he approached him calmly, mentally preparing himself for the possible scenario of a fight breaking out.

_I'll stay in my own form. Let him take the blame for Fabletown's next relocation. Maybe It'd be better if I play dumb the whole time. Act like I have no idea what the hell's going on. Gren would get carted away to the farm, or __**wherever the hell**_ _he belongs, and the area is suddenly safer once he's gone. Two birds in one stone. _

Grendel's good eye stared right back at Bigby. His expression, however, was unreadable. All he did was stand tall and make his signature smirk, which could indicate either a high blood-alcohol content _or _his future plans of homicide. The entire diner went silent. Even the distant clatter of dishware was quieted as the staff tentatively watched the scene unfold before them. That is, if much of a scene had happened to unfold after all.

Grendel directed his attention to Carley, who rigidly sat up straight while watching the interaction. She had been internally debating whether it may be necessary to place a hand on her leg holster, just in case things got violent. Truly, if Bigby hadn't seemed so wary of the stranger, Carley wouldn't have found the man remotely dangerous. Maybe just **creepy**.

"And who is this?" He asked, a hand resting on the booth where she sat. "Say, you been to the Trip Trap before? How's about we ditch th-"

"Leave her alone." Bigby demanded, now moving to stand behind Gren.

Carley ignored him, eyes glued to the pristine table before her to avoid urges of getting a sharp tongue with _whoever _this was.

Grendel stepped away from the both of them, still without any distinct personality change.

God, he hated how cocky this guy is.

"Aww, Bigby. You're no fun. Didn't know it was a crime for a guy to just try and get to know others."

After his smile turned to a bitter scowl in a matter of seconds, he nodded goodbye to the both of them. His boots slowly moseyed out of the eatery until he reached the door. He held the glass pane open, the bells hanging on the door hinge being the first things to break the silence in the room since he first entered. He looked to Bigby.

"Better keep a close eye on her head, huh?" He chuckled, finally exiting the diner.

Bigby's fists clenched as he felt the temperature of his blood rise. As if he hadn't talked himself out of engaging in a fight moments ago, he began to march and follow Gren out of the exit.

"Bigby. Stop."

Carley scrambled from her seat to halt him, firmly holding his arm. "Come on. I'll pay for the breakfast. Let's just get out of here."

Frankly, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, too. Gren's words sent a chill down her spine. Unaware that the situation caused her hands to gently shake, she trotted back to the booth and tossed two twenty dollar bills on the table which they sat at. She and Bigby awkwardly turned around to face the rest of the diner, which was still tentatively listening in on the whole encounter. Wide eyed, Bigby took Carley by the wrist in a similar way that he had when leading her away from Grendel last night. Carley idly stepped backwards as he made his escape and brought her with him.

"Uh, just keep the change. Thank you. Great coffee." She concluded, her volume gradually lowering as they migrated outside.

* * *

Overwhelmed by the scent of mundies that surrounded him hours ago, Bigby still attempted to cover the smell up by lighting another cigarette. Probably his fourth, since breakfast.

"So- wait, he was the last guy you saw before Snow died? And you got in a bar fight."

Bigby conveniently left out the part that they both transformed into storybook characters. "Yeah. I saw her in the taxi, got out, went inside the Trip Trap, and that was the last I saw."

"So, Gren's not a suspect?"

"No. He wouldn't have had time. Really, there's no strong leads yet. Well, strong leads with evidence, I mean."

"Jesus..."

They currently resided in the office. Though it was actually well-lit now that it was a decent hour, the excessive clouds from the chain smoker's mouth made the small room rather foggy. She sat in the same chair as she had for the interview, but this time, much closer to Bigby's desk. Her elbows rested on the surface as she pressed her fingertips to her temples.

"Why would Grendel say that to me?"

Bigby was afraid to answer that question. He knew Grendel couldn't have killed Snow, but that didn't mean Grendel didn't know _who did_.

"Who knows. I want you to avoid him at all costs, though. Alright?"

"_Oh, I thought the two of you were just __**pals**__, Bigby_."

"You know what I mean. Stay away from him."

Carley raised an eyebrow, curious as to why Bigby was doing this. Protecting her. It seemed fairly normal when he first made sure she didn't encounter that weird guy outside. That felt more impersonal. An example of common decency. Now, it almost looked as if he didn't want her leaving his sight. It was quite a shift from how pissy he was when they first met, and how he was dying to get her out of the office. She chuckled.

"It's not funny." He hissed, furrowing his brows.

Keeping a mundy away from the fable community was necessary. It was every fable's job. Bigby's, especially. There was already a few close calls with mundies concerning the discovery of Snow's head, Bigby didn't need more.

"You know what?"

Carley stood from the desk, suppressing a cough from the tobacco in her throat.

"I'm **fine**. I know how to take care of myself. I didn't need to get dragged back to this office to get a lecture from _you _about safety. I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of functioning in this city without getting myself killed."

After all, who was _he _to tell her who to avoid? He'd been such a controlling hardass since the moment they had met. She didn't need this.

Sternly, she gathered her belongings.

"I came here to do my job. And that's what I've done. Now, if you'll _excuse _me."

With that, Carley ventured out of the door.

He frowned, angry on the exterior but worried sick in truth. He didn't want somebody to die again.

And on some level, he just didn't want Carley to die.

Bigby put out his cigarette in his disgusting ashtray, though there was hardly any room left in it for more. He scoped the room, a hand reaching to adjust his tie while he straightened his posture.

Again, in the window, a figure appeared. Menacingly watching him. The stature was vaguely familiar. One of the Tweedles? It had to be. Nobody else he knew was _that _short.

His heart jumped, causing him to leap from his seat and bolt to the window.

Was this really happening again?

He blinked.

Bigby looked to the window once more.

Nothing.

There was nobody there, after all.

Was he losing his mind?

Frustrated with the heart attack he put himself through, Bigby threw himself back into his chair.

_Maybe I still have more sleep to catch up on..._

* * *

Carley exited the taxi, waving him off after handing him a hearty $5 tip. Her high heels clicked on the sidewalk, which was soiled with cigarette butts and empty beer bottles.

_Why does everybody here smoke so much?_

She inhaled deeply. Although the extreme advertising through neon signs and billboards was everywhere, there didn't seem to be anybody else around to view it. The street was pretty quiet. It wasn't much of a relief from the bustling streets she walked earlier. It was just eerie.

The various "Open" signs around her cast a bright magenta glow on Carley's face. The air was hot, but the sun wasn't out to worsen it.

Below her eye-level was the sign she had been looking for.

The Trip Trap.

Her slender legs slowly made their way down the stairs to the wooden door, which oddly made her feel anxious. A below-ground entry, for some reason, gave her ideas that it wasn't a legitimate bar. Her hand reached to her outer thigh.

Yep, the pistol was still there. Just in case.

She opened the door, revealing a rather depressing room before her. The walls were patterned and ugly. The floor was filthy and scratched. The lighting was tinted yellow, which somehow made the whole environment feel even _dirtier_. The pool table, which was decorated with drink rings, had nobody playing at it.

Carley moved around the corner to see three people. The bartender, a guy who supposedly had too much to drink and fell asleep, and Grendel.

The woman behind the counter eyed Carley. Her hair was white, but her face seemed younger than her hair color.

"Are you _supposed _to be in here?" She bitterly questioned, her voice raspy and and low.

"...Excuse me? Sorry if I'm intruding, I just have some questions for G-"

Grendel turned around on his barstool, finally noticing she had entered.

"Hey, it's you! C'mere, what's goin' on?!"

He was wasted. Dammit. This wasn't what she wanted.  
Carley had hoped getting a few questions about the murder from Grendel would be useful. Aid her writing, maybe. But this was a mess.

"Oh, I'd better leave. I don't want to bother you. You seem like you're having a good time, with- uh,"

She looked to the man who was passed out on the bar a few seats down.

"... Your friends. I think I'm just going to-"

"Nah, come on over! Bigby never introduced us, that bastard. What's your name, hun?" His crooked posture and dazed smile wasn't very inviting.

_Shit._

"Carley."

May as well make the best of the situation. She marched to the seat next to him, opening her briefcase on her lap. Maybe this could work. Maybe.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Grendel?"

* * *

"Right. Okay. So, you didn't get along?"

"You kiddin'? She was such a **bitch **whenever I saw her. With her stupid high heels and her little princess outfits. I hate those rich bitches. So entitled all the damn time..."

The interview wasn't going anywhere. She basically spent forty-five minutes listening to Gren gush about Holly, who pretended to not hear him from the other end of the bar, and then finally whine about Ms. White. Not like it was useful, though.

Carley wanted to get the hell out. Holly still monitored her with the evil eye while wiping the same area on the counter for ten minutes. Grendel was drunk, and _still _creepy. And that guy two seats down from Carley still hadn't woken up.

"Okay! Thank you so much, really. Great interview. Enjoy your night. Thanks."

She feverishly packed her briefcase back up, fighting the urge to sprint out of the cramped excuse for a bar as quickly as possible. She looked up to the bartender, Holly. Who apparently, still very much disliked Carley.

Cringing while stepping over a sticky spot on the hardwood that she encountered while entering, the sound of footsteps walking down the stairway could be heard from the other side of the door. It swung open, revealing Bigby standing behind it.

Carley froze. Bigby, for an entirely different reason, did the same.

"Listen, this w-"

"Are you fucking joking? Did you do this just to spite me, or something?"

"No! Of course not! I'm doing my damn job, and I'm _so _sorry if you're offended that I _dare _spoke to others for information as well!"

"Leave the lady alone, Bigby." Grendel slurred, dragging his feet around the corner to stand behind her.

"Fuck off, Gren. She doesn't need to b-"

"Say, we never did finish what we started here the other night, did we?"

Bigby momentarily closed his eyes.

"Carley. Get out."

She moved to Bigby's side. "What? Why? Do **not **tell me you're going to do this again!"

Grendel threw a punch at the side of Bigby's jaw, causing the detective to stagger a few steps to the right. Once recovering, Bigby gave him a hit in return.

_God, no. Please, no. Why can't I stop._

Grendel knew what he was doing. He had plenty of practice.

The punches were soon mixed in with pushing, resulting in the two moving around the room whilst taking turns pinning each other to walls.

Carley was calling for Bigby to stop. He could tell. He couldn't hear it, because that sort of stuff got drowned out when these things happened. Sort of like when Snow would yell for him to stop.

_I want to control myself. I'm- I'm trying…_

He could feel it coming.

Bigby held the other to a wall near the bar, hoping he could squeeze the life out of him this time. While Bigby concentrated on constricting the man's neck, Grendel constructed a plan. He reached to the tabletop, swiped his bottle off of it, and smashed it on the surface's edge. The brown glass's new shards glistened with alcohol, and soon, blood. The jagged bottle was jabbed into Bigby's back, pushed further into his rough flesh until it grew with fur.

Carley's scream echoed around the room.

_Here we go._

Bigby grew in height, his eyes burning with hate as they held Gren's gaze. His shirt burst at the seams, golden brown hair emerging from the openings. His hands transformed in length, nails becoming claws that could do much more damage than before. A muscular arm reached backwards to pull the bottle out of his back by the neck, a few spurts of blood exiting the new wound.

Grendel cynically smiled. It was about time this shit got wrapped up.


End file.
